Loki of Many Embarrassing Tales
by The Wolf You Fear
Summary: Loki doesn't always get embarrassed, but when he does, he prefers to make me write about it. EHEHEHEHEEeeeee...
1. HOW DARE YE!

**Featuring** **the Asgardians as children, and of course…LOKIIIII! ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN…**

 **MWAHAHAHAA!**

A small figure raced through Asgard's vast halls, a mere blur of laughing green. Similar, slower blurs, consisting of brown, gold, red, and silver, followed behind, panting and shouting. Loki grinned gleefully and ran on ahead, an insanity-inducing laugh tearing its way from his lips as guards hurried out of his way.

The less gleeful, more exhausted, other children; Thor, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif, were slowly tiring from chasing the mischievous godling. Volstagg took up the rear, his ample frame bouncing when he tripped and fell. Fandral laughed as Volstagg started to roll along the floor. Sif rolled her eyes at the rest and led the charge, but even she was beginning to feel the limits of her strength.

Just as they were about to call off the chase, Loki stopped abruptly and turned towards them, smiling impishly. He bore a striking resemblance to a devious will-o'-wisp.

"Come on! Let's get him!" Sif yelled, streaking ahead. The figure in front of her didn't move, but for a second, she could've sworn that he _flickered._

Sif was two inches away.

With an innocent wave, Loki disappeared into thin air.

"We should have seen that coming," groaned Volstagg as he slowly rolled out of sight.

 _Yes, you should have._ A playful voice whispered before fading away.

Loki hurtled through the ether, floating on stardust and whirling through shadows. Blinding light and color streaked past and slowed. For a moment, everything was still, suspended in nothingness like droplets of dew in the sun. An abyss lurked below like an inky black ocean, beckoning with promises of soft madness and gentle nightmares.

Loki considered the notion as the blackness purred like a kitten. He could fall into the velvety void. How simple it would be to just let go.

Then he remembered his pop-tarts.

With a flash and a jolt, he subdued the magic and rode its wave, the darkness giving way to color and form, slowly shaping into his destination.

With a theatrical puff of green smoke, Loki appeared in his room.

"Honey, I'm home." He said aloud into the empty bedroom, chuckling.

The high ceiling held the green drapery above his way-bigger-than-it-should-be-bed. One of the dark wooden frames was uniquely carved, featuring a snarling, twisted serpent, the hairy form of a giant wolf, and a rearing horse with eight legs. Loki ran his hands over the carvings; the wood was still soft from when he had carved it yesterday.

He looked around; everything seemed to be in order. It was a clean, open room. The layers of near invisible traps he'd laid for potential imposters seemed untouched. He sighed in relief and bent down to peer into the shifting shadows under the bed.

A large hole gaped in the floor, descending into empty darkness.

The pop-tarts were gone.

Thor and co. were in Thor's room, a striking contrast from Loki's clean and orderly palace. Several red blankets were strung about randomly, and the bedsheets were a tangled into a spider's web. The godlings were sprinkled around the room, dangling from bedposts, sprawled out across the floor, and other various attitudes that expressed; _well, this stinks._

Thor, on the other hand, was quite cheerful, as was his puppyish nature. He noticed the sag in his companions' demeanor, and he grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. He reached for the box behind him.

"Friends, there is no need to mope about. I have-" he was suddenly cut off by a loud, moaning wail.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Screamed the voice, tapering higher until it was little more than the yowl of a wounded cat.

Loki appeared in the middle of the room.

He grinned at Thor, a hint of _I'm-about-to-lose-it-ness_ in his eyes.

"Brother," he crooned, "Where are…MY POPTARTS!?"

Thor gaped; he could have sworn that Loki would _never_ find the huge tunnel he'd dug under his bed. Surely he had forgotten about the goodies, and wasn't hiding them at all! He reached behind him and held out the box, feeling put out that his oh-so-devious plan hadn't worked. Well, he supposed, at least he'd gotten to snack on a few. Loki grabbed the box and cradled it in his arms, a scene of cat-like bliss on his face. Suddenly his nose twitched. Something was wrong.

He carefully opened the top of the box, sniffed the air, and peered inside.

A few pink crumbs sprinkled the empty box.

Loki _smiled_ , a Cheshire-cat-like grin that belied anything but happiness. He slowly held out the box to Volstagg, who was on his knees at the smell of the crumbs, and crumpled it into a gnarled heap when it was mere inches from his nose, letting it fall to the floor. His crushing gaze remained on Thor.

"Brother, _did you_ _eat them_?" His tone was unnaturally smooth, a candy-coated river that rolled effortlessly off his silver tongue.

Thor did his best to look shocked, widening his eyes at the accusation. "No, brother! I would never dream of such a thing!"

The façade of calmness drooped, in its place a Garfield-like expression of boredom.

"How did they taste?"

Thor smiled at the memory of the many, many sugary, pink calories that he'd eaten. He remembered the heaven he'd been in while he'd carelessly scarfed down the nums. The crunchiness, the sweetness, the nyan-cat-ness, it was too much.

"They were gooood." He sighed, very nearly drooling.

Works every time.

Loki's boiling rage contorted his features as it spilled over and flooded the room with fire. Sif and The Warriors Three carefully stepped away.

"YOU ATE THEM!? YOU FEIND! HOW DARE YOU EAT THE ONLY SCRAP OF HEAVENLY MIDGARDIAN FOOD IN ASGARD!? YOU WILL PAY DEARLY FOR THIS CRIME, BROTHER, I WILL SEE TO IT!"

It was Thor's turn to back away carefully. Loki did not make idle threats.

"FIRE WILL RAIN DOWN FROM THE SUNS, MOUNTAINS WILL CRUMBLE, AND YOU WILL GET ME MORE OF THE SUCULENT SWEETS BEFORE I'VE HAD MY REVENGE! I WILL—" Loki stopped short and coughed, his uncontrollable anger intensifying at the blunder in his dramatic speech. He opened his mouth to resume screaming, but nothing escaped. He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Loki…?" Thor ventured, "Are you under a spell?"

Loki rolled his emerald eyes and shook his head.

The warriors and Thor exchanged cautious glances, unsure if this was merely another one of Loki's clever plots, destined to doom them all.

 **Well, I WAS gonna make this a one-shot, but it turned out WAAYYY longer than I thought XD. Looks like more chapters for me to write! YAAAAYYY!**


	2. Finding begins, and ponies

An essay and two quill-pens later, Thor scratched his blonde tresses in confusion.

"So what's happened to you, brother," He said, "Is that you've lost your voice?"

Loki nodded, glad his brother could comprehend at least that much. A sick, stupid pleasure it was, for straight afterwards Thor babbled, "Where did you last see it? You can't have left it anywhere far from –"He was silenced by Loki's hand on his mouth and glaring Garfield eyes.

The pensive Asgardians were just as bewildered, if not amused. Clearly a witch or some other evildoer had _stolen_ Loki's voice. They knew Loki would never be so careless as to simply leave it somewhere and forget it. It was not in Loki's nature to be careless.

"Brother, we must take you to Odin at once! Maybe he knows!"

And before the God of Mischief had a second to scribble out a protest, Thor and co. had dragged him to the Throne room.

There sat Odin. He cut a fine, stoic figure, what with his gold-plated armor and helm, his flashy spear, not to mention the fact that Asgard's two suns happened to be setting alongside each other for the evening in perfect view, giving the already glowing King of Asgard an even more brilliant look.

If you're into that sort of thing, that is.

The group toddled in, Thor pulling Loki along by his arm, Loki's feet dragging uselessly along the gilded floor. Not like he cared. The children gathered around Loki in the way people gather around someone terminally ill, looking so earnest that for a single moment, you could almost see the faintest flicker of concern in Odin's single eye. Almost.

"What is the matter, children?" He asked, his deep, aged voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the room, enough to make a mortal shudder. Thor pointed at his brother.

"H-he…lost his voice, and we don't know where to find it!"

Odin blinked, and leaned down to inspect the mute mischief maker, who glanced up with an almost audible thought of, _seriously, I'm fine. Really._ The Allfather peered at him before asking the children, "And you children are sure, with all his past…mischeif… that he's not just jesting?"

Sif answered with her hands on her hips, "Of course. He would never sacrifice his greatest weapon for a mere prank. Someone took his voice!"

Loki facepalmed for the seventh time in the afternoon.

Odin sat back, confusion flickering across his features and fading away. He went back through his mind of all the many, many enemies that Loki had made, searching for one with such a peculiar power, but came up with nothing more than that witch's rabbit that he'd been doing battle with for most of the past week.

Just as he began to turn and declare a hunt for the rabbit (an unusually snotty character, always willing to kickbox his way through anything for a carrot…) He noticed Loki holding up a piece of parchment that screamed "MIDGARD!"

Odin blinked and turned his attention to the children.

"I have reached through the conciousness of the stars, through ages of wisdom locked away in secret vaults, and found the answer to this foul deed. The answer is shrouded in mist and cannot come from explanation, and you must heed my words…exactly. It seems that the answer to your quest will be found on…Midgard. Go! Find Loki's voice!"

His voice echoed into the empty room, the patter of small footsteps already fading away. Odin sighed and sat back on the throne, rubbing his forehead exhasperatedly. He muttered softly to himself.

"Why do I even try?"

Loki raced along with the others, a light smile gracing his lips. Midgard. What a petty place, compared with these colossal, gilded statues, silver and gold images towering over lush forests and crystaline rivers. The entire realm sang with harmony, twisting shapes entertwining the planet into a work of hardly mortal artistry.

Not to mention the rainbow bridge.

Yup. A rainbow bridge.

Strains of melody from the never-forgotten nyan cat drifted through Loki's head, tantalizing him with the thought of the results of his plan. Oh, his plans, even if accidentaly, they always worked. His grin grew wider. He tried to hum the singular tune, only for the notes to get caught in his throught, preventing them from reaching the escape of air.

Oh. Right.

To a mortal, it might have seemed like an unusual scene, and as they passed the many markets and shops in their path, even an Asgardian or two gave them a sideways glance or a knowing smile, accommpanied by a shake of the head. After all, the children happened to be riding miniature ponies, all of the beasts,wearing a somber, haughty expression, keeping their short, fluffy necks as high as possible as they trotted along the glowing rainbow bridge, ( All except Loki's, of course, who bounded along with all the grace and balance of a catnip-drunk feline, and who seemed to have the most peculiar expression on his equine features, almost alike to a silly grin)leaving splashes of color where their tiny, pattering hooves had been.

The forms of the children stretched along and glided with nonexistent shadows, mere bright streaks flashing through the brighter realm as they passed below the gilded arches and intricately carved, golden spikes that shot out from the endless casms beside the bridge at intervals, slightly curved inward like the teeth of a long-mouthed monster, with the intent of crushing every darting being between its ornate jaws.

As they drew closer, the astral, spicy wind of Asgard abated somewhat, fleeing and turning hurriedly away under the shadow of the bifrost itself. It stretched above, breaking the skyline in a colossal, fanged show of power and magic. It was an orb, gilded (Like everything else in the realm) and designed, with two gate-like openings cut into both ends to allow entrance and exit (Though it's doubtful that anyone so tall as to justify the height of the opening would ever need such a mode of transportation.) An open ended spike rose from the top of this dome, towering high to dwarf even the monstrous achitechture it sat apon.

Standing just in front of the bifrost, which really was not dually frosty in any way, stood an equally impressive figure. His posture was of one who knew his duty, and would not stray from it's course, even if that meant standing exactly as he was for…lets say…a couple thousand years. His armor glowed and shimmered in the dying brightness of the evening, and the curved sides of his helmet gave him a foreign, exotic look, not to mention the deep, golden secrets that hid within the eclipses of his eyes, contrasting sharply with the darkness of his skin, visible enough to show his deeply rooted strength.

Heimdall, The Gaurdian of The Worlds, glanced down at the procession approaching him with a stiff, but gentle look of amusement, and bent down as they approached, both to ensure his hearing them, and to get those hundred-year-old kinks out of his legs. He smiled as they reached him and spoke with a low, rarely used voice that carried disconcerting resonance.

"What can I do for you?"

 **I know this chapter feels short, but banter is coming, and epicness and stuffs, and I want to cram it into one chapter at a time XD. This story is wanting to take a while, but if that makes my stories longer, then huzzah! But do not worry, my dear readers, many more stories of mischeif and battles of wit come on wayward winds of imagination, brightening the dark tresses of long-forgotten minds…ehehehehehehe**


	3. Of Heimdall and hair products

_You can open the bifrost, send us to Midgard, and allow us to pillage seven hundred and twenty three boxes of pop tarts before you bring us back. That would be nice, please and thank you._

So thought Loki, calmly, as the others rushed to explain the Oh so horrible loss of his voice.

It was rather amusing, actually. How eager they were to restore his precious treats and his stubbornly aloof weapon to him. If only they knew.

He ignored the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched Heimdall try to make sense of the cacophony of childish voices that assaulted him. Come to think of it, how did the guy stand _anything_? It must have taken some mad amount of focus for him to not suddenly be distracted by some rap battle down on Earth, or to accidentally laugh at some stupid joke a Frost Giant made. But with all those highly developed (and probably very boring) skills, the Guardian of Worlds still had trouble deciphering the Asgardians' chatter. Maybe he was just having one of those days.

"So…if I've heard you correctly…The Hokey Pokey is a porpoise? "Heimdall asked, utterly bewildered.

Loki keeled over in a hysterical, silent laugh.

The Guardian peered curiously at him, and then down at Thor. "Is Loki…less alright than usual?" he asked. Thor nodded, attempting, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh at Heimdall's first try at understanding them. Heimdall again glanced at the still-reeling, but ominously quiet Mischief Child.

"And the answer to his malady will be found on another realm?" he concluded.

"Yes. Allfather told us that Midgard is where we should go…" began Sif, "Weren't you paying attention?"

Heimdall looked for a second like a mouse caught between six cats, "…Maybe I was." It sounded something like defensiveness, even past the droll, low tone of his voice. He quickly turned and marched under the arched opening, into the wide inside of the bifrost. The patter of young footsteps trailed eagerly behind him.

He reached the elevated center of the dome, and the children arranged themselves in their typical swag warrior formation. "Be warned," Heimdall began in a rehearsed, dully sing-song voice, "I will honor my sworn oath to protect this realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard Bifrost will remain closed…and Odin will not be happy with you, or me."

"Well, maybe we should have brought some…provisions…"Volstagg sighed, staring forlornly down at his ample, bottomless stomach.

 _Oh, do not worry, my tub-shaped friend, there will be more than enough sustenance to double your size,_ thought Loki, sending a mysterious smile Volstagg's way. The rest of the warriors shifted uneasily as the Guardian stood motionless, until Fandral finally burst out, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go voice finding!"

"As you wish," said the Gatekeeper, and plunged his immense sword into the revolving clockwork of the machine.

There was a great clash of mechanical sounds that started to flow together into one huge, pulsating beat. The sphere spun around them at increasing speed until all but they were a blur. A flashing, multicolored light beckoned maddeningly from the other side.

Loki fist pumped when no one was looking.

The light increased and reverberated menacingly.

A flash and a jolt, and they were hurtling through space.

The cake sat magnanimously on the table, tempting small fingers to sample just a taste of its sugary joy. The strains of the tinkering music and the excited chatter of the other children only added to the tension, and for Tommy H., it was all just too much. He was compelled, no; he was _forced_ , to reach for just a crumb or two.

He extended his chubby hand.

Suddenly, a blast of light suffocated the room and part of the ceiling crumbled through, obscuring the youngster's view of the cake in a plume of dust that vanished slowly outward, revealing six…children, dressed strangely and shiningly. The blonde one in the front, who seemed fond of the color red, looked around grinning and bounced down off the table, saluting the party goers as he ran out of the room, the others following. The last one, a rotund, red haired boy, followed hesitantly, busy scraping remains from the ruined cake into his mouth before the diabolically grinning greenly dressed one ran back and practically dragged him off.

Tommy stared.

"Onward!" Thor yelled as he charged down the street, leading the shiny brigade. Volstagg was still mourning the unbearably small quantity of cake he'd managed to steal, but the rest of the band was in precariously high spirits, ready to take on whatever inevitably random obstacles they would face as long as the Labrador was their leader.

How quaint.

Loki jogged along with a quirky smile on his features. His thoughts wandered back to the child at the party. He seemed strangely similar to himself…but it was of no matter. The pop tarts beckoned from far away, and he was determined to reach their calorie-packed, icing-smothered embrace.

"Fandral…I think there's something in your hair." Sif pointed out, causing the unfortunate youngster to look up and see the tragic conglomeration of confetti and smothered cake in his beloved tresses. A fit of bawling quickly ensued.

"Unnnhhh, really?" Hogan raspingly spoke up for the first time that day, earning surprised glances.

As the party slowed, Thor turned to the sobbing child with a heartening pat on the back.

"Come, friend Fandral, adventure waits! A wash will fix your hair, and glory will give us its fine rewards, and soon, we will be the greatest in all the realms!" His eyes gleamed as he continued thunderously," MOUNTAINS SHALL KNEEL BEFORE US, REALMS WILL QUAKE, AND ALL THE HAIR PRODUCT YOU COULD EVER DESIRE WILL BE YOURS!"

The troubled Asgardian cheered somewhat, urged onwards by promises of generously given Thoreal, before a muffled laugh alerted him.

Volstagg had one finger in Fandral's hair and one in his mouth, revealing his attempts to stealthily salvage what icing could be found. He hurriedly scooted away, laughing nervously. The others were awkwardly silent.

"Well, then…yeah, that's…let's…yup…" He hurriedly jogged on.

The others exchanged varied and hilarious looks, before hesitantly following.

"Wait, guys, my…poor hair… wait, why…" Fandral spoke to the air where the others had been, as they swiftly pulled away ahead of him. He reluctantly started at a fragile jog, casting frequent glances at the mess of his hair, adding a nice touch of confusion to the already random scene.

"Deal with it! I've had worse!" a distant Sif called back.

 **Ain't that the truth, all my Norse Mythology fans out there, am I right? AM I right? Yeah, I'm right. DON'T QUESTION ME! So, once again, I apologize for the short chapter, but I like this cute little snippet size, so DEAL WITH IT. Many strange things are approaching, and deepened convulsions of random storylines and references to hidden fates shall be mine, ours, and yours…fate is a dastardly thing, but it's insanely fun to play with…eheheheh**


End file.
